Transfiguration Essays
by Ralinde
Summary: Minerva is not amused when she finds out that Mister Weasley and Miss Prewett have been paying more attention to each other than to their Transfiguration essays.


_A/N: This is written for the My Boring Life Competition (prompt: Minerva grades essays) and the Fanfiction Tournaments February 2015 Edition (theme: Valentine's Day), both on the HPFC. _

* * *

It was very quiet in the square office. The scratching of a quill on parchment and scrolls being shuffled around were the only sounds that broke the silence. There was very little of the candle left and the fire in the heard had all but died out. Minerva rubbed her temples and glanced longingly at her comfy armchair. Then her eyes darted back to the pile of scrolls on her left and she sighed.

It was nearing midnight and she needed all of these graded before tomorrow's lessons. What had she been thinking when she asked the second years, the fourth years _and_ the fifth years to write a two-roll essay at the same time? At this rate, she'd be up all night. She toyed with the idea to just leave it and tell the students they'd get their grades the next lesson, but slacking was a character trait she highly disapproved of in her students, and it wasn't in her nature to postpone things. However, she _did_ need a break, otherwise she'd never manage to finish.

She got up and went to the kitchen to make herself another cup of tea. Back in the room, she put new logs on the fire and only when the warmth started to spread into the room did she realise how cold she was. She changed her candle and set to work again.

Three hours of hard work later, only ten scrolls remained and Minerva let out a yawn as she took the next scroll and unrolled it in front of her. She blinked at the parchment a couple of times. The sidelines were covered in little hearts with an A inside them, and on top of the parchment there was a bigger heart, in which she read _Molly Weasley_. The essay in fact wasn't an essay, but were notes taken in class during the last lesson. She closed her eyes in exasperation. She loved her job, but sometimes students really got on her nerves. It had taken Arthur Weasley nearly a year to muster up the courage to ask Molly Prewett out, but since they started dating two months prior, they were inseparable and now apparently Miss Prewett even thought she didn't need to pay attention in class anymore. She needed to have a word with her tomorrow. She would not tolerate any Gryffindor student slacking in _her _class.

Half an hour later, her irritation only grew as she picked up the last essay, that of Mister Weasley. Slightly better than Miss Prewett, he had handed in one half of an essay but the other roll were notes from her last lesson as well. She groaned.

* * *

The next morning, Minerva stood in front of her fourth year students in a bad mood. It had been nearly four o'clock before she'd gotten to bed and she didn't do well on little sleep. It had also been the first time since she'd started working at Hogwarts that she'd had to give a student from Gryffindor a T for their assignment, and now there were two of them at once!

When she handed out the essays, the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students began murmuring and showing each other their grades. "I'd like to see you after class," she told Mister Weasley sternly. He looked at her, confused, but she wasn't about to let it interrupt with her lesson. She told Miss Prewett the same thing. She ignored the questioning look the young witch gave her and turned her back. She heard Jean Fisher, who was sitting next to Miss Prewett ask her friend in a whisper why she hadn't gotten her essay back. She ignored that, too.

Mister Weasley was a bit bolder. "Professor? Where is my essay?"

"We'll talk about that later."

He must've read something on her face, for he didn't say another word for the entire lesson, his eyes fixated on the parchment in front of him.

Mister Weasley and Miss Prewett stayed behind when the bell rang, earning them curious glances and whispered theories from their classmates.

"I am appalled," she said immediately after the last students had left. "Never, in my ten years of teaching, did I have to grade a student in _my_ house with a T."

"A… a… T?" Miss Prewett flinched and Mister Weasley paled visibly. "We got a T for our essay? Both of us?"

"Yes, Miss Prewett, both of you." She put the offending rolls of parchment brusquely on her desk. "You, Mister Weasley, only handed in half an essay."

"What? But I…"

"Handed in a roll of your essay and a roll with notes you took in class."

"I did?" he asked in disbelief and his face turned from pale to red. "Oh Godric, I'm so sorry, Professor! I don't know where my mind was, but I _did_ write two rolls of parchment the other night."

"I have a fair idea where your mind was at," she replied coldly.

Then she turned her attention to Miss Prewett. "And you, Miss Prewett, switched your homework assignment and your class notes altogether. And I just like to add that they show a certain… disregard for my subject," she said through thin lips.

Miss Prewett's cheeks burned an even brighter red than Mister Weasley's. By the look on her face, she realised exactly what had been written on her notes.

"It, it was a mistake," she muttered, "I… it won't happen again, Professor, I swear!"

"I should surely hope so! Once is bad enough as it is already!"

Both of them hung their heads in shame.

"That's ten points from Gryffindor each," she said sternly, "and you'll both receive detention tomorrow."

Mister Weasley's head shut up. "But, Professor, tomorrow's a Hogsmeade visit! And it's Valentine's Day…"

"You should have thought about that earlier," she replied. "One o'clock, sharp, this classroom. Take your quills and parchment with you. Now off you go, there's another class already waiting outside."

* * *

Saturday came as a bright and brisk winter's day, the type of day Minerva would usually go outside on, to take a walk until her cheeks were raw and her eyes watery from the biting cold, and then she would sit down by the fire with a good book and a glass of fine mead. Sadly, she had robbed herself of that pleasure, and she waited a little impatiently in her classroom until it was time.

Two subdued teenagers entered five minutes to one. They were holding hands when they walked through the door, but they quickly let go as soon as they saw her. They sat down quietly at the desks in front of her own and took their quills and some parchment out of their bags.

"Professor, can I just say something?" Miss Prewett asked nervously. "It was never our intention to disappoint you. We messed up, that's true, but we _did _write our essays, honestly. Please don't be mad at us."

The young witch fidgeted with a glass bead on her necklace, which Minerva assumed was a Valentine's gift from young Mister Weasley. She sighed. _When did you become such a sour woman, Minerva McGonagall?_ she scolded herself. _You were young and in love once too. And you did worse things then drabble at the corners of your class notes or hand in one half of an assignment._

She had intended to have them write lines, but instead she said: "Then you'll have no problem in reproducing them, I should think."

"Professor?" Mister Weasley said, a look of confusion on his face.

"Rewrite your essay," she replied. "I'm giving you an opportunity to fix this. Well, what are you waiting for?" she added, when they continued to look like they couldn't believe what they were hearing. "You'd better start working before I change my mind."

Hastily, they dropped their quills in the ink and set to work. For a while, the only sound was that of scratching quills on parchment, and now and then a sigh of concentration. Minerva used the time to prepare Monday's lessons.

At twenty past two, Miss Prewett put down her quill and silently read over her essay.

"It's not as good as the original one, I think, because I didn't have my notes, but I think it's finished," she said nervously and handed over her two rolls of parchment.

"Thank you," Minerva said and set to read and correct her work. In the meantime, Mister Weasley had finished his essay as well and the both of them waited silently until she was done grading.

At last she looked up at their expectant faces. "If these had been your initial essays, they would have been graded with E's," she said. "However, since they are your second ones, I'll have to deduct points. Otherwise, it would not be fair to your classmates who _did_ hand in their essays the first time round. So, you'll both receive a P. Don't look at me like that!" she reprimanded them at the sight of their disappointed faces. "You're lucky to even have gotten a second chance at all! I could also have kept your marks as they were, and had you write lines now."

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"If they would have been an A, would we have gotten an E?"

"That's right," she nodded.

"Well, I suppose a P isn't _too_ bad," Miss Prewett murmured. "We can always compensate that by putting in extra effort in our next essays."

Minerva put the lid back on the inkbottle and started rolling up the scrolls and putting them back into her bag.

"Well, what are you still doing here?" she inquired when she looked up and found them still sitting at their desks. "Just because you couldn't go to Hogsmeade doesn't mean you can't do _anything_ together today. It is, after all, Valentine's Day, and there are still a couple of hours left before diner."

"So, detention is over?"

"Yes, Miss Prewett, detention is over."

"Thank you, Professor!" they said in unison and got up from their seats. "We won't mess up again, we swear!"

"It's quite alright, now go," she ushered them out of her classroom and they quickly walked away, afraid she'd change her mind.

Minerva looked out of the window. There was still time to take that walk. She'd have to skip the reading until after diner, though, but that didn't mean she couldn't still go outside. She hurried back to her office and put on her winter cloak and tartan bonnet.

Ten minutes later, she walked the castle grounds, her hands deep in her pockets and her nose in the wind. She sighed contently. Oh, how she loved Scottish winters. She walked past Hagrid's hut and past the meadows that Silvanus had created over the summer. She took the path to the secluded corner where Poppy grew Muggle medicinal herbs as a way of experiment. It was one of her favourite spots on the grounds, because it was lovely and quiet. She was nearly there when she spotted a couple kissing fervently. When she came closer, she saw that it were Mister Weasley and Miss Prewett. She smiled, and turned around quietly so they wouldn't notice her.

She had interrupted enough of their first Valentine's Day as a couple as it was already.


End file.
